The Legend of Lothar
by Stoned Loki Incarnate
Summary: Lothar is a borderline petit man with an attitude. He has the mouth of CM Punk, the attitude of Stone Cold Steve Austin, and ring skills that developed from the projects of Wilmington, North Carolina. After being kicked out of his parents' house and fired from his job, he had but one goal: to become a wrestler and revolutionize the WWE.
1. Chapter 1

**I know this isn't much, but it's just to start things out. With any chance I might get a few reads, I'll try my best to keep this interesting.**

**Enjoy!**

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Inside the World Wrestling Entertainment training building in Orlando, Florida, a large cluster of people surrounded several different rings where potential superstars and divas battled it out for their shot at being in the spotlight. Amongst the group, a petit, middle-aged man – teenaged in appearance – watched from the front row, literally holding onto the bottom rope of the ring. He watched as a man built with a beefy figure shimmied and threw his opponent across the ring, boasting his strength by pounding his chest and roaring with his back arched. Everyone around the ring cheered except for the petit man.

The powerhouse jungle man act is such a cliché, he thought, rolling his eyes, Brock Lesnar should drop in and teach this guy a lesson.

The beefy guy's opponent struggled to stand up, using the turnbuckles in the corner to support himself. The crowd cheered, pumping up the beefy guy and motivating him to continue the punishment. A referee side-stepped along the big man's path of destruction. The losing man terrifyingly slipped under the top rope and held onto it, calling for the ref to keep the big man away. The ref did so, and the big man grunted in frustration.

The petit man laughed, "Smart move."

The big man turned his head to meet the voice that did not conform to the crowd, shooting a deadly glance. He took a strong breath with his nostrils, puffing his chest as he gritted his teeth, "You say something, boy?" He started walking in his direction, reaching down to grab the collar of the petit's green V-neck shirt and pulling him into the ring.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" Another person from the crowd shouted, "He's just a boy, leave him alone!"

The ref attempted to separate the man's grasp from the petit's shirt, but the man pushed the ref away and held the petit up to eye level, breathing heavily into his face.

The petit grimaced, waving it away, "When's the last time you brushed your teeth?"

The big man returned an angry version of the expression, "My bite is MUCH worse than my bark!" He gritted his teeth again, revealing more yellow than a dirty toilet seat.

"I'll take that as a 'never,'" The petit shot back before the ref signaled for the bell to signify a disqualification. From the crowd, a half a dozen security guards made their way to the ring to grab hold of the big man, fighting against his angry resistance as the petit fell onto his back after being dropped a couple feet. The woman that shouted earlier asked if he was alright.

"Yes, I'm fine… and I'm not a little kid." The petit replied, summoning a look of distaste from her. The petit sighed and looked away, standing up after refusing the hand held out by Dusty Rhodes, one of the trainers with a massive reputation in WWE history.

"Guards! Hold up just a moment!" Dusty shouted. The guards that held the big man let him go, letting him return to the ring with a vengeance. Dusty held his hand out and settled him, "Now, can you tell us your name again?"

The big man inhaled, puffing his chest again, but was interrupted by someone from the crowd, "His name is Bruno Beef!" Dusty gestured in the direction of the voice in thanks.

"Bruno Beef," Dusty started, "you are quite the force to be reckoned with… but what was your reasoning for holding this young man by his collar?"

Beef inhaled, "He complimented my opponent. My lanky opponent who was no competition for me whatsoever! He supported the wimp who talked trash to me before this match!"

Dusty nodded, "Understandable. Well, since the match is over, how about we make this official?"

Beef grimaced, "Me? Face this puny boy?!"

The crowd began to laugh, but Dusty remained emotionless. He turned to the petit, "Young man, what's your name?"

"Lothar." Lothar said without emotion or movement of his head or eyes. His face held firm against the malicious expression on Beef's face after the challenge was issued.

Dusty held his hands out towards the two combatants, "Well now, Lothar, do you accept?"

Lothar smiled, "Sure. Why not?"

Beef responded to the remark by pounding his chest and roaring to the ceiling, summoning the crowd's loud support. Lothar shook his head, standing up and taking a deep breath. Beef laughed at his mental preparation, getting into his fighting stance as Lothar cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders while keeping eye contact with his opponent. They both circled the ring, waiting for the ref to start the match.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, time for some action. Feedback is appreciated!**

* * *

The bell rang and the match began. Beef let out a battle cry with widened eyes and gritted teeth. Lothar didn't know how else to respond but in mockery, mimicking his expression. Beef growled in anger and charged, but Lothar flanked him, letting his momentum run towards the corner post. Beef managed to slow down before any damage was dealt, pivoting towards Lothar and charging again.

Lothar planted his hands on the part of his shoulders that hit just before the fillet of the neck, hoisting himself upwards with the help of Beef's momentum. He flung his legs up and over Beef's shoulder, on the way down hooking his arm around Beef's neck and arching the man backward. The crowd gasped.

Beef attempted to pull himself up, but his center of balance was too offset to regain a standing position. Lothar turned around to face Beef's direction with his arm still hooked around his neck, sliding his feet under the arched back and under his legs. Lothar hooked Beef's ankles with his own, pulling himself towards them and wrapping his legs around them, putting Beef in his special submission hold. The crowd was silent as Lothar manhandled the brute that was Bruno Beef, and Dusty Rhodes looked at Lothar in astonishment. Beef struggled to get out, but it was futile; Lothar's hold left him at a disadvantage, leaving him no choice but to tap out after what seemed like a large fraction of an hour.

After the bell rang, the entire arena was silent. Beef lay in the center of the ring, too humiliated to move. He could feel the weight of the crowd staring him down, shunning him for tapping out to a petit man like Lothar. Dusty crawled into the ring through the bottom rope, unable to come up with words to describe what he just saw.

"Unbelievable…" he gleefully sighed with a smile, "…what did you say your name was again?"

"Lothar." Lothar was breathing heavier than he was before the match, but not too much heavier. A faint smile could be pointed out by an observant spectator, but no one watched him with any sense of interest, but it awe. Dusty reached his hand out to Lothar, and Lothar grabbed it only to have it pulled up high into the air. The crowd did not cheer, but only murmured questions of curiosity?

"Who is this guy?"

"How could be have taken someone like Bruno Beef out?"

"I bet Beef lost on purpose to promote this wimp. What a sucker."

Lothar snorted at the comments just before Dusty spoke, "Hey now, what kind of talk is that? If this young man can win against a guy like Bruno Beef, who knows what else he can bring to the table?"

Another man from the crowd emerged from under the bottom rope. From what Lothar saw at the corner of his eye, he came from another ring in the building as a victor of that match. The man was well built and chiseled for his average size. Scars were placed sparingly along his moderately hairy pecks and rock-hard six-pack. He wore tight, red spandex that went down to just above his knees.

"Ah, looks like we have another opponent?" Dusty gestured to the man, "What's your name, good sir?"

"His name is Tyler 'Treasure' Terris!" Yelled the same man that shouted out Bruno Beef's name.

Dusty looked in his direction, "Are you a superfan of everyone in this building that's competed?"

"Only of those who won a lot!" The crowd laughed at his comment, "But I'm starting to regret being a fan of Bruno Beef!"

Beef was already out of the ring, walking over to the man and grabbing him by the collar, "How about I face YOU this time?!" He gritted his teeth again.

"I dunno Bruno, he might be too much for you to handle!" Someone else from the crowd said, making everyone laugh. Bruno grimaced in anger, throwing the man into the other ring and rousing up the guards in the area.

"Alright, let's everybody calm down now!" Dusty announced, "We should get this match underway. Lothar versus Tyler 'Treasure' Terris! Tyler, do you accept?"

Treasure smiled at Lothar, "He seems reasonable, having taken out a guy like Beef. This should be fun. I accept!" Dusty nodded, gesturing for the match to start and stepping out of the ring. The bell rung and Treasure immediately went to lock arms with Lothar.

Lothar rejected the lock, ramming his head into Treasure's and sending him scuttling backwards in a daze. The crowd was shocked to see such an act of sabotage on wrestling tradition by not locking arms. Lothar locked onto his opponent as he hurled a wound-up fist into his gut, making him hunch over and letting Lothar hook his arm around his neck to deliver a devastating DDT. On the ground, Lothar flipped Treasure on his back and pinned him.

"One!... two!...-" Treasure kicked out just barely before three, making everyone in the crowd sigh in relief and continue rooting on Treasure. Treasure ran to the corner of the ring to pull himself up, turning around to see Lothar standing in the middle, staring him down. Treasure circled around the ring, keeping a keen eye on Lothar. Lothar showed a wide grin, widening his eyes and tilting his head to the side. This sudden gesture made the crowd murmur curious thoughts, but it made Dusty chuckle in amusement.

_This guy has character_, he thought, more _than everyone in this room. Let's see how he plays it out._

Lothar stretched his arms out to the side, "Well, don't ya think it's about time to make a move? I'm standing right here, aren't I?"

Dusty failed to resist letting out a laugh. Treasure turned to look at him in disappointment. With the distraction, Lothar jumped in the air and landed his head onto Treasure's, dazing him. Lothar then wrapped his arms around his waist, hoisting him up to where his chest was up to his face. By then, Lothar's hand was planted on Treasure's spine while his other supported Treasure's weight from his thigh. Lothar pressed Treasure's back in and fell backwards, planting Treasure's face into the mat from above his shoulder. Treasure was out cold, and Lothar pinned:

"One!... Two!..."

"My god, what a move!" Dusty stood up to applaud before the count reached-

"Three!"

The crowd was stunned. Murmurs became heckling, some becoming cheering. Dusty hopped back into the ring to lift Lothar's hand up, this time making the crowd cheer for him. Lothar did not show any sign of emotion for this moment.

"Dear me, I've never seen an act like that one you just put on," Dusty said, "I don't think there's been a better portrayal of a psycho in this roster's history from what I remember. Bravo, Lothar!"

Lothar let out a chuckle, "Well, that's pretty much the gist of it, right? I mean, it's all about entertainment, yes?"

"Precisely," Dusty touched his index finger with this thumb, gesturing a correct statement, "We are entertainers! And you, my good sir, entertained me!" Dusty reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of thick paper, "This are for you. It is a ticket to the next live show on Monday Night RAW. I've provided you with a front-row seat right along the barricade. Take this opportunity to learn from the best of WWE, and you shall continue to train for your first show on NXT."

Lothar respectfully took the ticket, examining it. He smiled, realizing the opportunity that awaited him, "Thanks, Mr. Rhodes. You're the man!" His eyes were glued to the ticket as he left the ring, take for granted the path being cleared for him through the crowd. Dusty smiled as he watched Lothar leave the building.

"That young man…" he said to himself, "…just might be the savior that this company needs…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't worry, the exciting part is coming. In the mean time, enjoy a casual transition chapter with some back story.**

* * *

Thar's ticket was included with a plane ticket to Charlotte, North Carolina, where the next Monday Night RAW was being aired. The airport in Orlando was packed, which was typical for a vacation hotspot. He arrived early to the terminal, spending whatever spare time he had reading comic books and listening to heavy metal music. Occasionally he would leave his seat to buy a snack from one of the stalls, which he would later stuff into his bag when the plane began to board.

The ticket gave him a first-class seat, which he accepted with no sign of joy or excitement. He foresaw this opportunity to be a superstar coming from a mile away. It was too easy, and he had nothing to lose. After losing his job, he had no money to support himself and his car. He was forced to sell it back to the dealer that he bought it from for a rip-off price, but it was enough to scrape off for the plane ride to Orlando when his parents kicked him out of the house. In that moment, Lothar was at rock bottom, and nothing could be done but dive in the darkness that is the WWE training camp for a chance to climb back up and beyond.

If Lothar felt anything, it was satisfaction; the satisfaction of finally taking out is pent-up frustration on someone. For too long he held back his violent personality since he was a child. Back then he would not hesitate to hurt anyone who messed with him. The trouble he got into was more under the threat of his parents beating him than the teachers suspending him. He couldn't have cared less about losing a few days of school for getting his revenge on people who bullied him, regardless of what people are supposed to do, and that's reporting to a trusting adult. Back then, Lothar didn't trust adults, let alone ANYONE. He refused to make friends with his peers, and he shook off any loving feelings for girls. Lothar was a lone wolf who didn't work well with others. It's been this way since he went through child therapy a few years later.

The present returned to him as he woke up with music blaring from his ear buds. The plane was lit, and people were departing. Lothar paused whatever music was playing, winding up his buds and putting them in his bag and his phone in his front jean pocket. He stood up, rubbing his left buttock to get feeling back to it after his wallet blocked the nerves that went into it. He pondered whether or not to put it in his bag, but he found an opening in the line along the bypass and filled it, inching his way off the plane and finding himself in the Charlotte airport.

* * *

Lothar had to waste no time finding a means of transportation, for there was someone waiting for him at the terminal with his name on a white piece of paper.

"Wow, a personal driver," Lothar said to himself, "They certainly don't want me getting lost." He approached the driver, revealing his ticket which was the driver's queue to introduce himself as Bruno.

"Bruno, huh?" Lothar replied, "That's funny. I faced a guy named Bruno in the ring once. I kicked his ass." Bruno laughed, but Lothar could sense that he was faking it. He acknowledged the gesture regardless, following him to a black Chrysler Sebring parked just along the curb in front of the terminal entrance. His mom drove one of these, which gave him a feeling of nostalgia when he seated himself in the passenger seat. Bruno sat in the driver's seat and buckled up, Lothar soon following his example. Before he knew it, the car was in motion enroute to the Bank of America Stadium.

* * *

Bruno dropped Lothar off at a Hotel just blocks away from the Stadium. He wasted no time in checking in, unpacking, and settling down. It was dark out, and the show was tomorrow evening. He took this time to pull out his phone and fire up Hulu under the Wi-Fi connection of the Hotel. If he was gonna attend RAW, he needed to see what he missed last week due to priority training.

Supposedly, Randy Orton was still the holder of two titles, and he has yet ANOTHER rematch against Cena for both of them. Lothar sighed, but he looked on the bright side: Batista has returned, and Brock Lesnar is now a full-timer. Things weren't as bad as they were a year ago.

After a few hours of staring at his phone, he fell asleep from the boredom that was the WWE today, looking forward to seeing it all in person as if it were to make a difference.

"Learn from the best, he said," Lothar sighed, "They should learn from ME. I'm gonna give them the best show they've ever seen." With that in mind, Lothar's mind drifted into slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, time for the real thing to begin. Hope you guys enjoy!**

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Show day came the next day, and Lothar was within walking distance of the Bank of America Stadium. He spent most of his time in the city buying souvenirs with the credit he was given by Dusty. Most of it he spent on t-shirts and knick-knacks that he can easily fit in his bag for traveling, but he didn't take the opportunity to visit any attractions, for they were a pretty long walk from where he was staying.

After hours went by in the day, show time was approaching, and Lothar headed to the stadium. He did not have to wait in line, for he was a VIP with his ticket as the voucher. After walking a heck of a distance for an enclosed building, he came to his reserved seat just along the barricade, just as Dusty promised. He could smell the sweat of WWE superstars already, envisioning himself getting pummeled by one during a match that ended up being taken outside of the ring. The feeling made his blood boil in excitement, for that would be the perfect time to strike back and get his foot in the door of the company.

"The Authority will never see it coming," he said to himself, "I can only imagine what they'll do to me afterwards, but it'll be worth it. Either way, I'm still promised a show on NXT. Dusty will be there to secure that."

* * *

Eight 'o clock was approaching, and the announcers – Michael Cole and JBL – entered with their themes. Lothar cringed at the sight of JBL, booing him. JBL only tipped his white cowboy hat and smiled, which made Lothar scoff. The guy's announcing put a bad taste in Lothar's mouth. Sure, he may have been a heel announcer, but even THAT needs certain flair to be effective. In Lothar's opinion, JBL's hatred for faces and support for heels is incredibly forced, which is a major turn-off. The two announcers were followed by Jerry "the King" Lawler, which refreshed Lothar's throat.

From then on, Lothar spent the rest of the night half-asleep at what was said to be "entertainment." He thought seeing it live would make it a different experience, but it was just the same boring show, just louder and smellier. The only part of the show that Lothar perked up at was when Roman Reigns started arguing with the other two members of the Shield, but only for a minute or two before they started agreeing with each other.

"Damn it, Roman, why aren't you running solo yet?" Lothar muttered through his teeth, gripping the edge of the barricade to where his hand became sore when he let go. The pain was tolerable, though, especially with the burning feeling deep within him that wanted to go up into the ring and strangle half the roster.

At last, the main event came. The match was made at the start of RAW, which Lothar only remembered vaguely was Randy Orton versus Big-E Langston. Apparently, those two have been going at it ever since Orton made a racial remark towards his title reign, following with the idea that he might face him for the Intercontinental Championship and win a third title. Lothar cringed at the idea. It's bad enough there are two titles on one man, but THREE?

How does that make it fair to the rest of the roster?, he thought, each title piled on is just one less chance for a deserving champion to emerge. What a train-wreck this is turning out to be.

The match was in heat when Langston was on the brink of winning. With this momentum, Lothar couldn't help but cheer him on despite the slim odds that he'll follow through on it. The upper hand has been on Langston for a while, and the entire crowd was off the edge of their seats roaring for his victory against the biggest disappointment in wrestling history…

The cheers immediately turned into boos when Orton gained momentum with a mere elbow, pulling off the DDT from the ropes and nailing Langston with an RKO. Langston lost via count-out, and the entire stadium echoed with disappointment, but It all paled in comparison to how Lothar felt. His face turned cherry red with several veins swelling in his forehead. His hands were on the verge of busting from gripping the barricade, and he could hear his canines cracking from gritting his teeth. Words could not be conjured because they all burned up before they escaped his mouth.

Randy stood tall with his head slightly tilted back with a confident look on his smug face. His mouth made a cunning smirk that generated more heat than a gas grill in a concrete cellar. He went over to the edge of the ring to grab a microphone, clearing his throat:

"You all thought he was going to win…" Boos couldn't be any easier to obtain, "…does NOBODY know what's good for business?! The Authority, Triple H and Stephanie McMahon, could not have picked a better champion! The Apex Predator, Randy Orton, started immediately as the Legend Killer! I was BORN a legend! I earned more in ticket sales in arenas like this in a MONTH than half of you all earned in a full year's salary!" The stadium was literally rattling with angry fans, "I bet none of you are even capable of looking me in the eye and lasting a minute! In fact, I DARE one of you to step up and look me right in the face and see if you last a measly minute!"

Lothar could not have been more tempted, but he waited for the right moment.

"…no one? You see? That's what I thought! Y'all are a much of weak…"

Randy's back was turned to the crowd opposite of Lothar. The opportunity was taken right at that moment when Lothar jumped the seats and onto the edge of the ring.

"…useless…"

Lothar entered the ring through the middle rope, remaining behind Orton as he spoke. The crowd was riled up at the sight.

"…pathetic…"

Lothar could hear the announcers flailing their arms:

"What the hell?!"

"Did he come out from the crowd?!"

"I guess he's about to answer Randy's call!"

"…but he's not even allowed to cross the barricade!"

Lothar's eyes widened with a wide, devious grin as he locked onto Orton,

"…mindless, self-indulgent half-wits!"

Lothar pranced up to an uncomfortable distance from Randy's back, grabbing the microphone from over his shoulder and pulling it up to his mouth, "We're half wits, huh?! I'll show you half-wit!" Startled, Randy flinched away and locked eyes with Lothar just before Lothar flung himself towards him and bashed his head with his own. Dazed and confused, Randy fell backwards in bewilderment as Lothar caught up with him, holding him by the temples, planting his forehead onto his, and falling back on his butt, knocking Randy out cold and lying in the middle of the ring. Lothar still had the mic in his hands, letting the ovation he caused sink in. He raised the mic to his lips:

"So this is what the Authority calls a 'big seller'?!" The crowd was so stunned that half of it was silent. The other half heckled at the controversial moment. Lothar turned toward the curtain, where security guards started coming out of.

"Yeah, that's right, Triple H, arrest the guy that everyone's cheering for!" The crowd confirmed that for him, "Ironic, isn't it? You expect a poser like this to bring good business when a weak little guy from the audience comes up and owns him with one heatbutt? You call that business?! Well let's see how your business turns out when you sell THIS!" Lothar dropped the mic and raised both of his hands in the air, each raising the middle finger. The entire crowd simultaneously shouted "HELL YEAH!", knowing what this guy's goal was.

The security guards surrounded him, constraining him in cuffs and being escorted out of the arena through the curtain with one guard holding each arm. As he was being escorted, he mouthed off the company, which only could be understood by the guards due to a lack of a microphone. The crowd chanted "NO! NO! NO!" towards the escort, but as soon as he disappeared behind the Titantron, the arena heckled the entire building through its bricks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry it took so long. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Lothar was given the grand tour of the backstage of the arena. A cameraman was daring enough to follow him as the guards guided him each with an arm held. Lothar willingly walked the path he was forced to walk, appearing to be content and calm. He had a look on his face that justified he was satisfied with his decision to vandalize the show. The cameraman panned over to Lothar's frontside, where everyone in the arena could see his devious grin and cheered for him. If Lothar couldn't hear them, he could feel their support.

"I did this for you, WWE Universe," he said, appearing delirious to not give away the cameraman's recording, "I did it for you…"

The crowd acknowledged the comment, continuing to cross their fingers as he was put into an empty room with nothing but a couple of chairs. The guards forcefully placed him in one, unlocking the cuffs only to relock them onto one of the legs of the chair.

Lothar chuckled, "Oh of course, you don't trust me, do you?"

"Shut up." One of the guards grunted, "You stay here. Mr. Helmsley wants a word with you."

"Oh sweet, I get to talk to Triple H. This day just keeps getting better and better."

The guards walked out with annoyed looks on their faces, leaving Lothar in partially restrained solitude. He passed the time by humming to himself, swaying to the melody. The cameraman from before lingered outside of the doorway, trying to get a good shot of it; the muffled cheers and laughs from the crowd confirmed it.

It wasn't long after the guards left before Triple H could be heard storming down the hallway.

"What are you doing?" he scolded to the cameraman outside, "Turn that thing off! Keep the show going, you idiot!" The camera man was panicking from the intimidating Triple H, turning the lens toward the angry authority before slowly trying to find the off button. Triple H snatched the camera from his hand, "When I say turn it off I mean TURN THE DAMN THING OFF! I OUGHTTA FIRE YOU RIGHT N-" The live recording from the Titantron cut off, disgruntling the crowd and summoning boos.

"Aw, you disappointed your own audience, Mr. H." Lothar was in a lucid state. Triple H looked at him through the doorway alongside the frightened cameraman. The cameraman locked eyes with Lothar, and Lothar winked at him. The cameraman smiled in reply, walked away as Triple H watched him with an angry grimace on his face.

"You've got a lot of nerve, kid." Triple H muttered as he entered the room, shutting the door, "Of all my years managing this company, I've never seen such stupidity from an audience member."

Lothar raised a brow, "Stupidity?" he glanced around the room, listening to more muffled cheering and barely noticeable "NO!" chants.

"Yes, stupidity!" Triple H yanked up a chair and sat down towards Lothar, "Because of you, my work has just been tripled. The fans saw what they wanted instead of what was on the script. We had the script written all the way up to Wrestlemania!" Triple H harshly inhaled through his nostrils and wiped his forehead.

"So what have I caused, exactly?" Lothar proclaimed.

"What have you caused?" Triple H started, "You caused a butterfly effect that may force the Creative team to rewrite the entire script."

"Rewrite?" Lothar laughed, "You don't have to rewrite anything. If the crowd wants me, then just make me a mid-card. At least that way I'll be in their sights. Your plans for Wrestlemania don't HAVE to include me!"

Lothar laughed some more. Triple H grunted, "Alright, don't push your luck!" He took a deep breath and exhaled, "You can have a spot on the roster, but I'm not the only person to rely on with your foot in the door. I'll have to consult with the chairman, Mr. McMahon."

Lothar nodded, "Sounds good to me." He looked out the closed door, "Speaking of McMahon, where's your wife, Stephanie?"

"She's taking charge of the show while I'm talking to you," Triple H said, "So consider yourself honored that I was the one you grabbed the attention of." Triple H called in the guards, who were the only ones with the key to the cuffs. He unlocked the cuffs, freeing Lothar's hands, "…and don't get cocky, either. Mr. McMahon isn't as forgiving as me. So don't try and negotiate with him."

"That shouldn't be an issue," Lothar said, rolling his wrists, "Whether or not he says no, I have Dusty Rhodes to secure me a spot on NXT."

"Dusty Rhodes, huh?" Triple H looked up in surprise, "Was he, by chance, the one who gave you that front row seat?" Lothar reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the ticket. At the bottom-right corner, Dusty's signature vouched for VIP access, "That sly dog…" Triple H handed the ticket back to Lothar, "Looks like I'm gonna have a word with him later."

Lothar laughed as they both exited the room. Coincidentally, the Bella Twins were walking down the hall, presumably for a match. They were talking to each other, telling each other that they WERE the Diva's division or some crap like that. They both stopped to look at Lothar chuckling with a grin on his face.

"What's so funny, dork?" Nikki sassed.

"Yeah, you have a problem with us?" Brie followed.

Lothar stopped laughing, looking up at the twins, "No, I don't have a problem," A camera was presenting this conversation on the Titantron, causing the audience to cheer again, "but I can tell you this: What makes you think you mean ANYTHING to the Diva's division?"

Both Bellas looked at each other with a snarly look, "Hey, don't be jealous! Just because you jumped the barricade like an idiot doesn't mean you can jump us!"

Lothar laughed again, "I have no interest in 'jumping' the likes of you." Nikki was about to talk back, but Lothar put a finger to her lips, "Don't interrupt me! Your place in the WWE is only significant because of some stupid reality TV show that only shows how much of a skank you two really are." The crowd roared, and Brie provocatively came at Lothar, only to have Nikki hold her back.

"Easy, Brie. He's just jealous of our success." Nikki commented.

"Success?!" Lothar burst out laughing once more, "The only way you two would be any more relatively successful is if you were topless!"

The Bellas' mouths dropped with shocked looks, "This is PG, ya perv! How about you go back to watching Game of Thrones!"

"I can to that right now!" Lothar responded as he grabbed the top of Nikki's sports top and yanked, ripping through it and exposing her bare breasts. The cameraman kept his sights on them. The crowd SCREAMED at the sight, and the Titantron immediately blurred out the exposed areas. Both Bellas screamed and covered it up, but the damage was already done. Triple H didn't bother to stop the moment, as he was laughing too hard.

"Why are you laughing?!" Brie looked back at the authority, "You're just as perverted as that freak! Why are you even in charge?!"

Triple H looked at Brie, then gestured around the room. Brie couldn't help but listen to the crowd through the walls, piecing it together, "Oh… okay. I guess it's what THEY want that matters…" Brie comforted Nikki, wrapped her with a towel that was lying on top of one of the shelves, and walked out of view of the camera. Triple H and Lothar locked eyes, holding back their laughter.

"Dude," Triple H said with a smile, "I think you just promoted both yourself AND them!" They both laughed as the sound of the crowd continued until the Titantron cut off.


End file.
